


The Great Coffee incident

by runawaygypsy



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Smut, bad day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 03:23:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3274880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runawaygypsy/pseuds/runawaygypsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dayna is having a bad day until she spills coffee on Tom Hiddleston.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Great Coffee incident

Dayna had had a bad morning. She'd awakened late for work because her alarm failed to go off, the clothes she'd planned on wearing had never been washed, even though she swore they'd made it to the hamper, so she'd had to settle for something much less comfortable, the heel of her shoe broke as she descended the stairs of her flat, so she'd had to go back up and grab a pair of flats, she'd had to settle for coffee rather than tea because her regular cafe was out of her favorite morning tea, they were also out of her favorite blueberry muffins, so she'd had to wolf down a raspberry scone, her least favorite of menu items, while she waited for the tube. And now this. Perfectly this.

She had walked onto the tube without incident and, being that it was the time when most commuters were riding it, she'd had to stand. She braced herself with one of the metal poles in the center aisle, wrapping her arm around it and leaning her body into it, while she held her cup in the other hand. The car lurched forward and Dayna, not having enough of a grip on the pole, went with it, landing on her knees and spilling nearly the entire contents of her coffee cup all over the backside of the man standing in front of her. “Oh, God,” she wailed, “I'm so, so sorry!”

The man had been wearing a rather nice, somewhat expensive suit. Dayna was afraid that he'd make her pay for cleaning it, or, even worse, replacing it altogether. However, instead of the red face of rage as he turned around, he wore a masque of concern. “Are you alright?” he asked as he leaned down an grasped her elbow, helping her up.

Dayna looked up at him and smiled weakly. “I think I'll be alright,” she answered. “This just tops off my day. I would hope it wouldn't get worse than this.” She stood the rest of the way up, adjusted her skirt, then a look of horror passed over her face. “Oh, your suit!” she exclaimed. “I spilled my coffee and... oh!”

“It's okay,” he said. “I'm almost at my stop and...” he looked down at his wet suit and noticed her wound. “Your knee is bleeding.”

Looking at her own leg, Dayna winced. “Lovely,” she huffed. She glanced back up to him, noticing the concern as it danced in his beautiful blue eyes. 

He took a deep breath. “I know this is a bit awkward,” he began, “But my stop is next and my flat isn't too horribly far from it and...” Another deep breath. “I would hate to leave you on the tube bleeding when I could have helped you. Would you like to come back with me so I can at least get you a bandage?”

She blinked at him, completely caught off guard. “I don't know you from Adam,” she finally answered. “What if you're a serial killer who preys on girls like me?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

He chuckled. “Then I'd be the serial killer you spilled coffee all over,” he replied. He held his hand out to her. “My name is Tom and I'm an actor.”

Dayna took his hand and shook it. “Dayna, accountant,” she introduced. She was still somewhat wary of him. “An actor? Have you been in anything I might have seen?”

“Well,” he said, “As it so happens, I've just finished filming an action movie in America. Over here, I've done mostly television and one movie. It was called 'Unrelated.' Have you seen it?” When she shook her head, he scowled. “Hmm, how about the 'Wallander' series on the BBC?”

Dayna's face lit up and she nodded. “I did see those. Kenneth Branagh, right?” His smile was a confirmation. “Very well done, but who did you play?” She thought he'd looked familiar, but she couldn't remember seeing anyone in the show with longer black hair like he had. 

“Magnus,” he answered. “Magnus Martinsson.” His eye flicked up to a wayward lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead. Instead of using his hand to move it, he blew on it and tossed his head back. 

“Oh,” Dayna replied, “But Magnus had curly blond hair.”

“It was dyed for my film,” he shrugged. 

The car pulled to a stop, jerking slightly and nearly pitching her into him once again. This time, he caught her, suspending her with an arm around her waist. There was a moment between them when the air suddenly felt thick, and she drew in a deep breath. “I guess this is your stop,” she said, her voice barely coming out.

Tom nodded. “So, will you let me take care of that cut?” His eyes widened as he realized he was still holding her. Letting go gently, he straightened his back. “Will you?”

Glancing back down at her knee, Dayna winced. “I suppose I should,” she sighed. “May I also use your phone to call out from work? I left mine at home in my haste.”

“Absolutely,” he grinned. He held out his elbow for her to take and guided her out of the car, onto the crowded platform, up the tiled staircase and into the fog of the day.

It was only a couple blocks to his building. His flat was in a grand structure, and old brownstone building with cornices and artfully carved window frames, all painted white but through pollution and time had faded to a lovely shade of gray. There were a couple doves perched upon the top of the building as they approached, and the pair flew away as Tom opened the door and guided Dayna through. “I'm afraid we'll have to take the stairs,” he apologized. “The lift is down.”

“I'm alright with that,” Dayna answered. She had only been thinking of her own flat, how she'd only ever navigated stairs, not having the luxury of a lift. As she bent her knee to lift her foot up to the step, she felt a jolt of pain and drew in a sharp breath. “This might be more difficult than I'd thought,” she said sheepishly.

“Your knee?” Tom asked. When Dayna nodded, he leaned down and scooped her up, lifting her knees with one arm and leaning her back into the other. “We can't have that now,can we?”

“I'm not delicate,” she grumbled, “You can put me down and I'll manage.”

“Nonsense,” he said, raising his eyebrow at her. “You're hurt and I am more than able to carry you. Besides that, my flat's only up one floor.”

She looked in his eyes as he said this, seeing a flash of pure determination. She knew he wasn't going to let her down no matter how much she protested. Relaxing in his arms, she mused, “And people say chivalry is dead.”

Tom carried her up the stairs and set her down when they reached the landing. “Will you be alright from here?” he asked. 

“I'll manage,” Dayna smiled. 

She limped slightly as she followed him down the corridor. He stopped midway down, center door on the right, the side facing the street. He pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the door, swinging it open. “Ladies first,” he said.

“Thank you,” she smiled. “Your phone?”

“Straight on next to the sofa on the left,” he answered. “While you're making your call, I'm going to get out of this wet suit.” He left her alone, ducking into a door on his right.

Dayna walked carefully into the living room. He had it sparsely decorated, a gray sofa with a matching armchair, stainless steel and glass coffee table and matching end tables. Art deco-inspired sconce lamps sat at either end of the sofa and it was near one of these she found his phone. She continued to look around as she called, noticing the framed art on the walls, except one wall on which several family photos were arranged. He also had a large book shelf at the far end of the room, overflowing with volumes, enough so that they were not just on the shelf, but had books stacked on top of them as well as second rows on several of the shelves. 

By the time Tom emerged, she was done with her call and was standing near his bookshelf, scrutinizing his collection. She saw him out of the corner of her eye. “You've got quite the library here,” she said as she turned to face him.

“Thank you,” he answered. “Now, won't you please take a seat and we'll get that wound taken care of.”

Dayna sat down on the arm chair and extended her injured leg out while Tom knelt in front of her. He had changed into a pair of sweats and a plain blue t-shirt. He set the ointment and bandages that he had retrieved from the medicine cabinet on the end table and opened an alcohol swab. “This might sting a little,” he warned as he swiped the pad over the cut, cleaning away the blood that was drying there. 

“A little?” Dayna groaned. She watched as he opened up another pad and wiped that one over her knee. “Whoo, that stings!” she yelped, closing her eyes in pain.

“Are you alright, Dayna?” he asked, setting the alcohol pads on the floor.

She cracked her eyes open just a bit, still wincing. In a deep, scratchy voice, she answered, “There is no Dayna, only Zuul,” before bursting into laughter. “Really, I'm fine.”

Tom grinned. “One of my favorite movies!” He grabbed a tube of ointment and spread it over the cut, then placed a bandage over it, making sure the adhesive was going to stick. “There,” he said, “As good as new.” His hand was still on her leg, rested against the back of her knee. Looking up at her, she could see longing in his eyes. He made no attempt to move and she made no attempt to make him move.

Instead, Dayna placed her hand over his. “Thank you,” she said softly. The thick atmosphere that had surrounded them in the tube car had returned and she could only hear her heart pounding in her ears. She knew she should have felt silly for the thoughts that appeared in her mind, but she didn't. The moment seemed as natural as any other human interaction.

Tom leaned closer to her and gingerly kissed her knee. His breath felt warm against the coolness where the alcohol pad had wiped. “You're welcome,” he replied. He kissed her knee once more, then his hand scooted her skirt up her thigh and he kissed that bare skin. “Is this alright?” he whispered.

“Yes,” Dayna sighed. She leaned back in the chair as he continued, kisses slowly climbing up her inner thigh, his fingers gently playing with first the hem of her skirt, then the filmy lace of her panties. Her breath hitched as she felt him curl the elastic sides of her panties around his fingers and pull them down, removing her shoes as well as he reached her feet. It was a brief respite of his touch, because he was upon her again, his fingers dancing along every inch of her bare skin as though they were committing her to memory. 

“Still alright?” he asked, his blue eyes gazing upon her. She nodded and he smiled. 

One hand slid up her side and came to rest on the back of her neck as he pulled her into a kiss. His lips tasted like mint and he plied hers with tenderness at first, sweeping them across, then pressing against her with fervor, his tongue deftly sliding between and prying her lips open, seeking audience with her own. She let out a soft moan as his other hand began caressing her mound with gentle sweeping motions, his touch nearly enough to send her spiraling as she silently willed his fingers to slide inside her. Her will was granted as one lithe finger gently found her slit, delving between her folds and finding the nerves there that were already sensitive, already twitching and aching in response to his touch. He swirled around her nub, inciting it more. Dayna groaned into his mouth and arched her back as a bolt of pure pleasure shot through her. 

Taking that as his cue, he began tapping against her, setting a rhythm that he followed in kind with kisses and nibbles trailing down her neck. Dayna unbuttoned her shirt, revealing her matching bra, and then leaned forward unclasping it and freeing her breasts as she shimmied the shirt and bra straps from her arms. “You have gorgeous breasts,” he smiled. “In fact, good enough to eat.” He dove for her, his mouth instantly suckling on one nipple, his free hand squeezing and rolling her other to a peak. 

Dayna was nearly gone. She felt like she was on fire. “I'm going to come,” she mewled.

“Then, by all means, please do,” he answered, his voice muffled by her flesh.

The coil that had tightened in her center with his ministrations began to release. Her voice, broken by rough breath, caught in her throat and began to escalate, transforming to screams of passion as it emerged from her throat, a harbinger of the waves that crashed over her. “Tom!” she screamed.

He withdrew once her screams had subsided, his finger glistening with her release. Leaning back from her, he licked his finger. “Mmmmm, you taste divine, darling,” he smiled. 

Breathless, she leaned forward. She slid her hands under hid t-shirt, feeling the muscles there, their sinews, each and every curve. He ducked as she helped pull the shirt over his head. “Take them off,” she whispered, motioning towards his sweats. “They're really not leaving anything to the imagination.”

Tom stood up and looked down, grinning as he looked back at her. “Not really,” he agreed. He slid them down, his cock standing at attention, purple against the white of his bare belly. He kicked the sweats to the side and grasped Dayna's hands, pulling her up. “Come with me,” he instructed.

Dayna followed mutely, unfastening her skirt and discarding it along the way. Tom led her into the bedroom, turning and pulling her against him as his lips crashed into hers. He lifted her up, gasping her around the waist and carried her to the bed, laying her down gently and then covering him with himself. She spread her legs, feeling the tip of him press against her entrance. He leaned his head next to her ear and thrust into her, a grunt puffing from his lips. 

She keened at the sensation of being filled, feeling him pull out, then bury himself entirely in him. Her hands, wrapped around his shoulders, scratched their way down his back, stopping at the globes of his ass and squeezing lightly. She writhed, bringing her hips up against him with a purr. “Harder,” she hissed.

Tom obliged, raising his hips and slamming down into her, repeating it again as she let out a moan, each time getting louder. “I take it this is what you'd like?” he said against her neck.

“Yes,” she mewled, arching her back. Her climax came hard and fast this time, her entire body rocked by paroxysm as he thrust. “Fuuuuccckkkkk!” she keened. “Tommmmmmmmm!” Her walls constricted around him, pumping him, pulling him with her. 

He groaned, his hips bucking as he found his release, his cock stiffening even more inside her and coating her with his orgasm. As he slowed down, he kissed her. “Thank you for a lovely afternoon,” he smiled as he kissed her softly.

“I should be thanking you,” she giggled. “I should spill my coffee more often.”


End file.
